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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28691061">Fabric scraps</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateShipCookie/pseuds/ChocolateShipCookie'>ChocolateShipCookie</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Hunger Games Series - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Child, Fluff, Original Character(s), Short One Shot</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 07:40:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>637</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28691061</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocolateShipCookie/pseuds/ChocolateShipCookie</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“I’m sorry sir, she is the only Miss Trinket registered in District 13.” </p><p>It wasn’t his fault. It was no use screaming on him. He was just the soldier guarding the room, Haymitch reasoned himself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Haymitch Abernathy/Effie Trinket</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>5</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>41</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Fabric scraps</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Well, this one was gathering dust in my computer for a while now. I wanted to make a longer story of it but I never found time so… Here it is, I hope you’ll like it and maybe I’ll come back to it one day!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span class="u">
    <b>Fabric scraps</b>
  </span>
</p><p> </p><p>“<em>I’m sorry sir, she is the only Miss Trinket registered in District 13.” </em></p><p> </p><p>It wasn’t his fault. It was no use screaming on him. He was just the soldier guarding the room, Haymitch reasoned himself.</p><p> </p><p>If anything it was <em>his </em>fault.</p><p>He had trusted Plutarch and Coin when they had arrived.</p><p>They had barely put a foot out of the hovercraft when he had <em>nicely </em>been escorted to the hospital to be thrown in a rehab cell. He only had enough time to ask one of them if they had her, and hearing the man scream that her name was indeed in the register had been enough for him.</p><p>It shouldn’t have. He should have asked to see her.</p><p> </p><p>And here he was now. A month later.</p><p>A month too late.</p><p> </p><p>He was facing a bed in a grey compartment, with a soldier behind him trying to explain him that <em>this</em> was the woman he had asked them to save from death.</p><p>But it wasn’t her. At all.</p><p> </p><p>And yet, maybe a little.</p><p> </p><p>If only her hair, light honey blond curls, thin angel hair framing her delicate face, barely reaching her chin. Or her hose, tiny and straight. Or even the small dimples in her cheeks forming as she mumbled incomprehensible things in her sleep.</p><p> </p><p>He came closer, careful not to wake and scare her. She didn’t know who he was and seeing a stranger sitting on your bed can be a frightening sight. And he really didn’t need to be assaulted by a shrill scream on top of the rest.</p><p> </p><p>He studied her for a while. Refusing to hear what his brain and his guts were screaming at him.</p><p> </p><p>They had found her in her apartment. With a travel bag containing official papers and some clothes. Just like he had told her to do.</p><p>She was, in fact, a Miss Trinket. On that they were right too.</p><p>But she wasn’t <em>his </em><em>M</em>iss Trinket.</p><p>No. No she wasn’t.</p><p>She couldn’t be. That was impossible.</p><p>She was not even one year old. Maybe six months.</p><p> </p><p>He would have seen. He would have known.</p><p> </p><p>But he also knew denial was a super power in Effie’s case. It could have…</p><p>But maybe she wasn’t even <em>his. </em></p><p>Of course her father would have blond hair, or at least blond genes, too, and thin lips, and…</p><p>Grey eyes.</p><p>Two big, shiny grey eyes were now fixing him. Not afraid, sad.</p><p>It was instinct to caress her head softly and shush her back to sleep. Humming some old lullaby her mother used to sing to his brother.</p><p>He couldn’t ignore the knot in his guts any longer. He couldn’t keep lying to himself. She was his responsibility <em>at least</em> now. She had entrusted him with her, he couldn’t let her -<em>them- </em>down. He had no time to spare in being afraid here. It was too late anyway. For fear, for anger or for running away.</p><p>He had to act, for her, for Effie. For them.</p><p> </p><p>She fell back to slumber, moving slightly and getting out from under the blanket the one last proof he didn’t really needed, clutching it to her chest.</p><p> </p><p>A stuffed toy. A cartoonish ragdoll cat to be exact.</p><p> </p><p>Haymitch had never been into fashion, fabrics and other frivolities. But these he would recognize anywhere.</p><p>It was made entirely of a patchwork of fabrics scrapes from Cinna’s dresses, Katniss’s and Effie’s. The red and orange moire of Katniss fire dress, Effie’s white snowflake ornaments, the mockingjay black silk, the wedding dress sparkly muslin, Effie’s fire nymphalis butterflies…</p><p>It was really a bad timing to remember tearing apart a good number of these himself.</p><p> </p><p>After a minute, he noticed that on its belly was embroidered a single letter, <em>H</em>, and a little green branch with red berries.</p><p>
  <em>Holly. </em>
</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>As always, pour all your thoughts in the comments, tell me if you liked it and if you eventually would like more of this story!<br/>xxx</p></blockquote></div></div>
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